


a craving for something I cannot find (and the shame of never finding it)

by Digitalis_Obscura



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Minor Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, this is really fucked up lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Digitalis_Obscura/pseuds/Digitalis_Obscura
Summary: The knife was small, a little switchblade that fit in the palm of his hand when it was closed, with a plain black handle and a wickedly sharp blade, as Jon had learned when he sliced his palm open trying to clean it.





	a craving for something I cannot find (and the shame of never finding it)

**Author's Note:**

> this was a bad idea i had at three in the morning that i couldn’t let go of. i’ve found i’m rather fond of it. heed the tags, this isn’t a happy story. this is also unbeta-ed. i got sick of looking at it so i’m just posting it as is. let me know if you see any mistakes.
> 
> working title: if someone stabs you, you get to keep the knife (the uncomfortable adventures of Jon and his knife)
> 
> title is from a t. s. elliot poem

Jon had recently spent a lot of time trying to imagine how he would die. Since he was kidnapped by Nikola, his own death was never far from his mind. Almost getting skinned really emphasized for him his own mortality.

In all of his considerations, he had never pictured it like this; in a filthy alley, hands full of the groceries he had run to the store to get, knife digging into the soft space between his ribs. He couldn’t see the body behind the blade, but he was certain there was no supernatural element to this attack. He was being mugged, plain and simple.

As if to confirm his suspicions, his attacker spoke. 

“Give me your money. Now!” The blade dug even more insistently into his side on the final word and Jon found himself turning, desperate to see the face behind the terribly young and desperate voice.

He was barely more than a boy and, as soon as he made eye contact with Jon, his eyes went wide and he backed away, quickening his pace until he was running out of the alley, dropping the knife as he ran.

Jon wondered what had scared him away, if he had seen something in Jon’s eyes that betrayed the fact that he was not exactly normal, maybe not even truly human. Maybe he had just lost his nerve.

Resettling the groceries he hadn’t even thought to drop when he was being attacked, Jon had just started back toward his flat when the shine of metal caught his eye.

The knife was laying at his feet, blade glinting dully in the glow of a street light. Acting on an impulse he couldn’t name, Jon picked it up and turned it over in his hands before locking the blade back in and sliding it into his pocket.

He didn’t see anyone else as he finished making his way home, and he was thankful.  
~~~~

Jon was recording a statement when Elias pushed through the door of his office, looking composed and in control, a direct counterpoint to Jon’s near constant state of disheveled messiness.

Jon stopped the recorder with an irritated jerk of his hand, fixing Elias with a withering glare. 

“You know I was in the middle of a statement. What was so important it couldn’t wait?”

Elias brushed a bit of dust off the shoulder of Jon’s sweater, choosing to disregard his question and instead fixing him with a look that felt to Jon as if he was sorting through every thought in his mind and picking which to critique first as he moved to sit in the chair opposite Jon’s desk. He smiled, and Jon shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

He decided that, since Elias obviously wasn’t going to say anything until he was ready, he would go back to the statement he was recording. He found where he had left off and clicked the recorder back on.

“And it was dark, the sort of dark that you can feel-“

“What did you learn from your encounter last night, Jon?” Elias cut him off mid-sentence and Jon almost hit him. He took a moment to compose himself before he answered, sliding the statement with its sloppy, rushed cursive telling what was likely another story of the effects of the Dark to the side of his desk.

“I learned that London has always been dangerous after dark, especially the area I live in. I learned that some people are so desperate for money they are willing to do whatever they have to to get it. And I learned that I do not like the cheap brand of bread the corner store a few blocks from my flat carries. Is that what you meant?” He knew he sounded snappish and impatient but couldn’t bring himself to be more polite.

It crossed his mind to mention the knife, and how some unknown urge had compelled him to slide it back into the inside pocket of his coat when he left for work this morning, how it fit so well in the palm of his hand. But Elias likely already knew, and besides, something about it felt… private, like it wasn’t to be discussed.

Elias just looked at him, that infuriating little smile still on his face, seemingly indifferent to Jon’s little tirade, and Jon was struck by the desire to break that careful composure, the need to see something real in Elias’s face. He pushed it down, surprised at himself.

Elias stood, in one fluid motion, walking around Jon’s desk and brushing his fingers over Jon’s shoulder in a proprietary gesture that triggered a rush of chills down Jon’s spine. As he opened the door to leave, he looked back at Jon, little smile still fixed on his lips.

“You would do well to avoid that alley in the future, wouldn’t you agree?” With that, he left, gently closing the door behind him and leaving a resounding silence in his wake. Jon shook off the unsettled urge to follow after him and demand answers, instead changing the tape in the recorder out for a fresh one and starting the statement again.

~~~~  
The knife was small, a little switchblade that fit in the palm of his hand when it was closed, with a plain black handle and a wickedly sharp blade, as Jon had learned when he sliced his palm open trying to clean it.

He had taken to flipping it in his hands, something to quell his jittery nerves and keep his restless fingers occupied. If the others noticed, they didn’t ask.

It became a part of his morning routine; wake up at an ungodly time, shower, throw on the first clothes he laid hands on, slip the knife into a pocket somewhere, maybe get some breakfast, and go to work. He was sure it would provide him no real defense if he were attacked, but it still afforded him a sense of security that his life was now sorely lacking.

It proved useful for random tasks in the archive; opening boxes that were thoroughly taped, slicing through the packaging on a new case of cassette tapes for the recorder, and even once using the flat of the blade to smash a spider because he happened to have it in his hand. Eventually Melanie and Martin started asking to borrow it for their own small tasks and it became commonplace to hear someone yelling for Jon’s knife.

No one ever asked where it came from, but Jon was almost positive that was for the best. He didn’t know how he would explain that he was almost mugged and decided to keep the knife he was threatened with. That he now felt something like a compulsion to have it on a his person at all times. No, it was better that they didn’t ask.

~~~~~  
Jon had taken to smoking in the alley behind the Institute whenever the tension in the archives got to be too much to handle. The alley was small and virtually inaccessible unless you were trying. It afforded him a small measure of peace that he was hard pressed to find anywhere else in his life. 

It was late, and he was just finishing up to head back inside, grinding the butt out on the brick of the wall he leaned against, when he heard footsteps approaching. He had the knife out and in his hand before he had finished registering the sound and he was preparing to defend himself when his arm was grabbed in a tight grip.

“I assure you, the knife is not necessary. I was just looking for you.” Jon surprised himself by relaxing as Elias spoke and shook it off, tightening his grip on the knife as he considered all the reasons Elias looking for him could be a bad thing.

“Well, here I am. I was just getting ready to leave for the night when I finished up out here.” He pulled out his pack, taking another cigarette just to have something to do with his hands. Elias held out his own hand and Jon stared at it in confusion for a moment before realizing what he wanted. He handed the pack over and Elias lit his own cigarette before cupping his hand around the flame of the lighter and leaning over to light Jon’s.

They stood together in silence for a few minutes, the only sound their slow exhales into the cold night, the moment something bordering on peaceful. Finally, Elias broke the silence.

“You have questions. I know you do. And you know I have the answers. But you also have to know why I can’t just tell you.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. What about you giving me the answers I need is a bad thing? Why can’t you just help me understand? Isn’t that the whole point of serving our master? Knowledge?”

“Yes and no. It’s more a focus on finding knowledge. It’s the process that matters. I can’t just tell you because then you aren’t learning.” Elias took a drag off his cigarette, his exhale an elegant stream of smoke, and Jon had to force himself to look away from his mouth.

“So what, I just keep going like this and try not to die? Because I’ve got to say, that isn’t going so well for me right now.” His frustration was showing in the tone of voice he used and he knew it, but he just wanted something.

Elias sighed and flicked the remnant of his cigarette into the darkness of the alley. As he turned to leave, he put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t help you. I know how hard this is for you, and I wish I could make it easier. I know that you can do what needs to be done. I trust you to find the answers you need.”

He brushed a stray hair out of Jon’s eyes, pushing it back and leaving his hand there for a moment, before abruptly walking away. Jon stood for a moment in silence before stubbing out his own cigarette and going inside to pack up his things for the night.

~~~~  
“Please, just give me some kind of information I can use. I’m getting absolutely nowhere right now.” Jon hated the edge of pleading in his voice, hated the way Elias hadn’t looked directly at him since he had come in. 

He was so fucking tired of the non-answers and half truths, tired of being manipulated and told only as much as Elias felt was appropriate. 

The switchblade was in his hand, blade snapping out with a little snick, before he had really made the decision to take it out. He pressed the tip up under Elias’s jaw, forcing him to meet Jon’s eyes for the first time since he stepped into the office, and was surprised to realize that there wasn’t the expected anger in Elias’s gaze.

In fact, beneath the ever present arrogant surety, Elias looked momentarily shocked, before it melted into something dark and hot. Jon wasn’t sure he liked that any more than the anger he had anticipated. He pressed the blade in a little harder.

It was almost a surprise to see a trickle of blood stain Elias’s collar. It occurred to him then that he had not been entirely convinced Elias could bleed. For once, it was nice to have been proven wrong.

Elias sucked in a sharp breath but no longer seemed interested in avoiding eye contact. He met Jon’s gaze with a blazing intensity and Jon had him backed into his own desk, knife still pressed to his throat, almost before he consciously decided to do it.

Jon changed his grip on the knife, turning it so the sharp edge of the blade pressed against Elias’s windpipe, allowing him to step farther into Elias’s space, close the last of the gap between them, leaving Elias no way to get away from the sharp steel pressed to his neck.

It occurred to him, in some small corner of his mind not entirely focused on his knife against Elias’s skin, that Elias was actually shorter than him. He didn’t know why he had never noticed, except maybe that Elias was always fully in control of every situation, giving the impression of a more imposing presence.

But he was forced to look up to meet Jon’s eyes and Jon had to lean down to press their lips together in an act that was more a furthering of violence than a show of any affection. 

Elias pressed into him, pushing the knife further against his own throat and not seeming to notice the blood that welled up in the cut it caused. He met Jon’s forceful kiss with the same strength, all teeth and tongue and hand fisted in Jon’s hair. 

He tried for a moment to take control of the kiss, but Jon pressed him back against his desk with more force and bit at his lip and Elias backed down, taking what Jon chose to give. Neither of them were gentle, and Jon was sure he tasted blood for a moment, although he wasn’t sure which of them it belonged to.

He was startled back to his senses by the beep of his phone in his pocket and he jerked out of Elias’s grip, backing away several feet. Elias touched a hand to his neck where a red line gently oozed blood and Jon snapped the knife closed, sliding it back into his pocket. The little smile was back, tinged with something that might have been smugness and Elias was the first to break the silence.

“You should get that. It’s Martin, wondering where you are. He has information for you.” He sounded perfectly composed and Jon felt an irrational anger that he was seemingly unaffected while Jon himself was slightly short of breath and rather off kilter.

Elias’s hand hadn’t left the wound on his throat and Jon couldn’t help the way his gaze was drawn to the blood on the tips of his fingers. His phone beeped again and he pulled himself together enough to read it.

Elias was right, of course. He had two texts from Martin, and he shot back a quick reply before his eyes slid inexorably back to the red staining Elias’s pale skin. He wondered what it would taste like and then shook his head to rid himself of the thought. Elias’s air of smugness grew, and Jon forced himself to look away, turning to the door.

He left without another word, knife heavy in his pocket.

~~~~  
“Jon, are you okay?” Martin’s voice was hesitant and soft, but Jon still jumped, hitting his head on the desk as he stood up with a jerk.

“Hm? Oh, yes I’m fine. I was just looking for a statement, uh… zero zero three two eight one two? Do you know where it is? I’m trying to sort them.”

“Um, have you checked Basira’s desk, she was reading over a few statements the other day. But that’s not what I meant.” Jon brushed past him to hunt through the makeshift desk they had set up for Basira, and came back triumphantly clutching a folder.

“What was that, Martin?” He finally fixed his attention on Martin, noting the concern in his eyes.

“You’ve been… off, these past few weeks. I wanted to know if you were alright.” The way Martin avoided eye contact said Jon had been more than a little off but Martin was trying to be gentle about it.

“I’m fine, I’ve just been busy. You know how it is, we have so much to do, trying to stop the end of the world.”

It looked for a moment as if Martin would accept that, but then he shook his head. “No, it’s more than that. We’ve all noticed the knife, Jon, and- and the way you act any time someone so much as mentions Elias,” Jon couldn’t control the small jerk of his hand, entirely proving Martin’s point.

“So did something happen? Has Elias done something? We can help, you just have to talk to us.” 

Jon was shaking his head before Martin had even finished speaking. “I’m just fine Martin. I carry a knife because I’m not an idiot and I’ve already been kidnapped once. I should have always had something to protect myself, ever since I realized just how much danger we’re all in. Even you thought of your own safety before I did.” He very carefully did not address the situation with Elias. To be honest, he didn’t know how to address it at the moment.

Martin looked dubious but he accepted the answer. As he opened the door to the office, he turned back one last time.

“If something is wrong, you know I’m here for you.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him. Jon sighed and opened another folder.

~~~~  
The knife was missing. He wasn’t sure when he’d lost it, only that he went to reach for it to open a particularly well sealed box and it wasn’t there. He was almost certain he shouldn’t be so upset over such a small thing, but the loss of the knife felt like an omen of something larger. He forced himself to concentrate on his work.

The disappearance of the knife was a nagging concern for the next few weeks, never far from his thoughts, but he did his best to ignore it. He read statements, did research, and argued with Elias. Not all of the arguments ended with Elias pressed between Jon and a wall, but enough did. He stopped trying to make sense of it.

Jon had Elias backed into a corner this time, hand fisted in his hair as he bit down on Elias’s throat. It had begun as another argument, another ploy for answers, and had ended with one of his hands taut in the fabric of Elias’s shirt while he left his mark. Elias didn’t seem to object, at least for the moment, raising his chin to give Jon better access.

He took the opportunity to bite down a little harder than he had been, certain to leave a bruise, and Elias hissed out a sharp breath and fisted his hand in Jon’s hair.

“I would appreciate it if you could do that a little lower. I do have a meeting to attend today.” Beneath the infuriating calmness, Jon was learning to recognize the slight tremor that betrayed the effect he had on Elias. He couldn’t help feeling a little smug.

He bit a little higher on Elias’s neck, pushing his luck but wanting to see what would happen. He was rewarded with another of those sharp breaths and Elias leaned his head into the wall, a gesture easily mistaken for a surrender if you didn’t know better. Jon knew better.

“While that is very nice, I do believe I just asked you to stop.” Elias tightened his grip in Jon’s hair to the point of pain and Jon couldn’t contain the soft moan that slipped from his mouth without his consent. The sound Elias made in reply could only be described as intrigued. He tightened his grip further, pulling Jon’s head back and Jon couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him.

“As… fascinating as this may be, I do have a meeting to be getting to.” The hand was gone from Jon’s hair in an instant and he realized a moment too late that he had as some point left enough room for Elias to slide gracefully by and leave his office as if nothing had happened. 

Jon considered going back to his own office to get some actual work done but quickly deemed it a lost cause and instead took the rest of the day off. 

~~~~  
It was after another argument, one that had ended with Elias shoved into his own office chair and Jon sat on his lap, that Elias pulled the knife from an inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“I thought, if you were going to insist on carrying it, it could do with something in the way of… personalization.” He handed it to Jon, who took it with careful hands and flicked the the blade out. 

Etched into the steel was an eye. It was simple, just an outline, but it was elegant nonetheless. Jon looked from the knife to Elias, and back again.

“You understand that I do not exactly agree with your choice to carry it. It will provide you almost no protection in the face of most of our enemies, even if you were aware of how to use it properly.”

Even as he spoke, Elias tilted his head back just slightly, the challenge in his eyes a direct counterpoint to his words.

Instead of replying, Jon pressed the blade to Elias’s skin, up above the collar of his shirt, almost exactly over the fading line of the previous wound. Elias smiled, sharp and hot, approval written on his face. Jon’s responding smile was just as dangerous and Elias leaned up, digging the knife hard against his throat, to press his lips to Jon’s.  
~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, feel free to tell me what you liked, what you hated, what you wish you’d never read. 
> 
> i am the entity know as digitalis-obscura on tumblr, come yell about tma with me.


End file.
